had multiplied and clutter had gathered on every available surface. “Your choice,” he said.
Charlie eyed the smear of oatmeal on the wall. “School,” she said sulkily.
“Whatever,” said Cameron.
“I wish I was going to Italy,” Charlie said.
“Why Italy?”
“’Cause it’s not here. Lily’s going to Italy for the whole summer.”
Good for Lily, he thought with a spike of envy.
Lily watched Sean striding down the corridor to her classroom, with Charlie in tow. He held her hand but walked so fast she practically had to run to keep up. They both looked grim, and Lily’s bright smile of greeting failed to impress them. “Go on in, sweetie,” she said, “your friends are waiting for you.”
Lindsey Davenport, bless her, grabbed Charlie by the hand and pulled her inside.
“It’s not working,” Sean said when she was out of earshot.
“What’s not working?” she asked in an undertone. She kept her eye on Charlie, watching the little girl put up her backpack. The other kids came to welcome her back, exclaiming about her hair and treating her with the sort of fragile tenderness children instinctively showed when one of their own had been wounded.
“Everything. This whole arrangement. It’s chaos at the house, getting everyone up, dealing with the baby, getting out the door on time. It’s insane.”
“Women do it every day of their lives,” she couldn’t help saying.
“And that’s supposed to help?” He rubbed at a spot of something on his shirt. His expression changed to a smile as Charlie approached him.
“See you, Uncle Sean.”
He touched her head awkwardly but with affection. “You have a good day, sugar.”
“Okay.” Charlie was now surrounded by a few of her friends who had come to check out her uncle. In chinos and a shirt and tie, he had a sort of flustered, rumpled charm. Children seemed drawn to him, as though they recognized a kindred spirit.
“Let me know how it goes today,” he murmured to Lily.
And honestly, she decided as the day moved forward, it seemed to go well enough. She couldn’t deny her relief at being back in the classroom, her safe world, in control once again. Here, she was her best self, confident and caring with the students she loved. After the chaotic, emotional week at Crystal’s, this felt normal.
So why did she find herself missing the chaos of that house?
Lily pushed aside the thought and kept an eye on Charlie, who was subdued throughout the day, and near the end, Lily felt hopeful. Traditionally, she set aside the final twenty minutes for reading circle.
“Boys and girls,” Lily said, settling on the floor pillows and motioning everyone to gather around. “We’re going to start a new read-aloud book today. Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White.”
“I saw the cartoon on TV,” said Eden.
“The book’s always better, isn’t it, Miss Robinson?” said Sarah.
Lily nodded, then paused to wait for everyone to be quiet. She opened the book to the familiar first page. It was a risky choice under the circumstances, but she trusted her instincts. This was, bar none, a flawless novel and one of the best ever penned for children. Or for adults, for that matter. She hoped the story of a friendship so powerful that it transcends death would have special meaning for Charlie.
Lily took a deep breath and started reading. “‘“Where’s Papa going with that ax?” said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast…’”
There were probably worse things than coming back to school after your parents drove off a cliff, but at the moment, Cameron couldn’t think of any. This was it, right here. As his uncle pulled to the front of Comfort High School, he felt as if he’d been knocked into a dark hole, the way he’d felt the morning Sean had come home with the news.
Ignoring his babbling baby sister, he slammed the car door shut and stood in front of the school, which at this hour swarmed with students. The booster club members were stringing a banner up between two big sycamore trees, promoting something or other. Mr. Atherton, the vice principal, led a chain gang of morning detention students on garbage patrol.
Cameron turned away and hunched up one shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t be recognized. He didn’t think he could handle Atherton’s jovial “Gee-kid-tough-break” greeting just yet. Or ever, for that matter. But it would be wishful thinking to expect people to treat him as though nothing had happened.
It was one of those blustery April days that held out the hope of a power outage and school cancellation.